


heart like silk

by londoneyedgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, AU - Merope lives, AU - The Potters Are Alive, Crushes, Fluffy, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, I think?, M/M, Mashing Timelines, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londoneyedgirl/pseuds/londoneyedgirl
Summary: “I said Riddle's sweet on you.” Malfoy clears his throat. “Very much so, I believe.”“No, he isn't.” Is Harry's reflex answer, but he might be finding a bit hard to both breath and believe his own words.Because for a second, he can't help but wonder if it… might be possible. If such a thing could actually have a bit of truth to it, even if just a small percentage of it.| or, harry likes tom and vice-versa, but they're both oblivious. abraxas decides to give harry a nudge, because frankly, he's tired of dealing with a jealous lord voldemort; and it sends harry spiraling.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 24
Kudos: 1072





	heart like silk

**Author's Note:**

> the title comes from the poem excerpt: “How your heart opened like silk." by sandra cisneros, from loose woman; “jumping off roofs”.  
> i wrote most of this like a year ago lmao but i never really forgot about it  
> i wanted to write some more for it but i didn't and in the end i feel like it was a bit rushed but i also feel like it didn't really need the bits i was going to write?? idk. it's 2am and i'm drunk and sad let me be  
> anyway! it's a bunch of fluff! hope you enjoy it c:  
> you can find me on twitter as @londoneyedgirl

“Listen, Potter.” Harry's brows furrow as he watches as Abraxas Malfoy comes to stand in front of him, an extremely serious look on his face.

And then he doesn't say anything else, and Harry's at a loss. “Okay…?” He drags the word more than necessary, confused. “I'm listening.”

Malfoy rolls his eyes. “I don't know why I even bother.” He mutters under his breath, but he doesn't elaborate on that. “I'm only doing this because I know you're oblivious and he's stubborn and perhaps a bit emotionally constipated.” And then he throws Harry a pointed look. “Of course, I don't have to warn you not to tell him what I just said.”

“Who?” Harry doesn't hide how impatient he is, now. Malfoy knows him enough to know he doesn't like it when people beat around the bush, even if they're not at all close. “What are you even talking about?”

“Riddle.” Malfoy looks at him as though it's obvious, and Harry has to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“What about Tom?”

It's then that Malfoy steps even closer to Harry, leaning so he can speak in a lower tone and remain being heard by Harry. “Don't tell him - or anyone else, for that matter - what I just said, and what I'm gonna say now.”

Harry huffs, but nods all the same. He's always been too curious for his own good. “Fine. Get on with it.”

Malfoy takes a deep breath, and then presses his lips together into a thin line. “He’s sweet on you.”

All emotion leave Harry's face. His ears feel a bit numb, and something somehow both cold _and_ warm is taking over his chest. “What?”

“I said Riddle's sweet on you.” Malfoy clears his throat. “Very much so, I believe.”

“No, he isn't.” Is Harry's reflex answer, but he might be finding a bit hard to both breath and believe his own words.

Because for a second, he can't help but wonder if it… _might_ be possible. If such a thing could actually have a bit of truth to it, even if just a small percentage of it.

Harry feels like slapping himself immediately after that thought, but avoids actually doing it so he won't either look crazy or silly. How could he even think Tom would be interested in him in _that_ way? What a fool.

“Of course he is.” Malfoy looks pointedly at him, visibly annoyed. “But he's not going to tell you anything. Instead, he will continue to stare at you when you're not looking, and I'll be the one having to try to talk some sense into him when your _friends_ act more than _friendly_ with you.”

Harry observes him for a few seconds, expression somewhere between incredulous and absolutely torn. “You really believe that, huh?”

“You’d have to be blind not to see it.” Malfoy then smirks. “That, or an absolute idiot.”

Harry narrows his eyes at that. “Hmmm, what was that thing you were saying, about Tom being ‘emotionally constipated’?” Harry does air quotes, feigning being deep in thought. “Does Tom know you’re talking about him like that?”

“Don’t.” Malfoy closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side as though it hurts him physically to acknowledge the danger of getting on Harry’s wrong side. “Or you’re just oblivious, like I said before.”

The smile on Harry’s lips is as smug as it gets. “Right.”

Sighing in a tiresome manner, Malfoy straightens his back and looks Harry right in the eyes. “I just. Thought you should know. Perhaps you could do something about it.”

Ignoring the mess that his head’s turned after Malfoy’s revelation, Harry nods in dismissal. “I’ll see.” And he turns to continue on his way to Gryffindor’s common room, as he had been doing before Malfoy had stopped him. Abraxas doesn’t stop him.

-

The fact is that once the idea has been planted, Harry can’t stop thinking about it; can’t stop finding evidence to back up Malfoy’s claim, and he doesn’t know if his mind’s simply reaching because he’s projecting his desires, or if what he’s coming up with is actually solid.

Harry has always thought Tom Riddle is handsome. Since they first met, in their first year, Harry had objectively observed that Tom had the classical sort of beauty, completely devoid of any romantic interest, because Harry was eleven and had never found it hard or strange to compliment men, women or others regarding physical appearance. What’s beautiful is to be appreciated and all that.

As the years passed, Harry found it easy to observe Tom’s other qualities and add to his physical beauty: his intelligence, his tenacity, and even his cunningness - something so very Slytherin of him, and yet something that Harry could admire. The Hat had almost put him into Slytherin, after all. His proximity with Tom made it easier for him to see more of the other boy, which was more than anyone else in Hogwarts - and, he suspected, anywhere else, too - could ever see.

And that was where Harry’s ‘evidence’ started. Tom wasn’t really close to anyone else in school. Yes, he had his house mates - he snorts to himself, knowing Tom would never consider any of them his ‘mates’ - but they all answered to him. There was no sort of banter between them and Tom, no sort of companionship, despite their very clear loyalty to Tom. But Tom’s relationship with Harry was different.

A clear display is that Harry’s the only one who can make fun of Tom without getting cursed all the way to infirmary. The one time one of Tom’s colleagues had attempted to behave with him the way Harry did, Harry has no clue what Tom did, but the boy lost a week of classes. Harry had even felt sorry for the poor fool, but at least Rosier ended up serving as an example for the others.

Or, Harry thought to himself in annoyance, perhaps Tom had found in Harry just someone who he didn't need to worry about keeping a reputation and maintaining a constant display of power. Harry knows just how hard Tom had had it in the beginning with the other members of his house, just for being a half-blood. Tom most likely enjoyed having a friend who didn't care about his blood status - whose blood status’ even similar to his own - and here Harry was, thinking that Tom's friendship with him had anything to do with romance.

Harry shakes his head to himself. One frail evidence down.

They had become close during a potions assignment on the first year. Severus Snape, a lot more vicious at Hogwarts than he is when he visits his mom back home, made it very clear to him and the rest of the students of how much he despised Harry and, on a lower level, Gryffindors. And after Tom had stood out as the incredible student he is, Snape had proceeded to assign them together. Surely, he’d expected Tom to make his life a living hell, especially with the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, so intensely instigated by Snape himself.

And until their first day they worked together, Harry had been sure that was what would happen, but he had also been set on doing his best. Which turned out to be the right path to take, because Tom had been expecting him to be the very stereotype of the lazy Gryffindor, and ended up pleasantly surprised at how well Harry could do when Snape wasn’t telling him how much of an imbecile he was.

From then on, they became close. Harry doesn’t know exactly when he started considering Tom his friend, or even when and why Tom decided to consider him worthy of his time and attention - not that Harry thinks himself lesser than Tom, but after such a long time, he knows how Tom’s mind works - but he’s glad that they did. Although his friendship with Ron and Hermione are great, and so is his relationship with the rest of his house, his friendship with Tom is different. Sure, they disagree on plenty of things, but they also agree on many others, and their discussions are, probably, the most productive he’s ever had with anyone else.

Harry started finding Tom attractive the year before. With his finding, came the lack of any sort of freaking out event over his sexuality and also the presence of his freaking out over having a crush on _Tom_ and wondering how he’d hide it - which turned out to be very easy. As perceptive as Tom is, he never noticed anything. Harry wonders if he’s just that great at hiding his feelings, or whether Tom just didn’t notice it because it was _Harry_.

Another evidence, right there: Tom doesn’t trust just anyone. He has what he calls a “healthy amount of trust” on his colleagues, which is almost none. But Tom trusts him. Harry wouldn’t say Tom trusts him with all his secrets, which would be completely out of character for him, but he does trust him enough that he lets Harry borrow his notes sometimes, trusting Harry not to misplace or share them, and everyone knows that the only house that values notes as much as Ravenclaw is Slytherin. Tom doesn’t share his notes with anyone else.

Although that could be simply because he didn't want Harry to fall too far behind. Harry admits, he should learn to better manage his time soon, but Quidditch is important to him, even if, associated with Harry's lack of time management skills, it could threaten his Runes and Arithmancy grades. As Harry's friend, it's understandable that Tom would help him, even begrudgingly, after giving Harry an earful and maybe nagging once or twice about whether Quidditch was _really_ that important.

So, there, another theory debunked.

(The fact that Tom doesn't help his housemates, Harry decides, can be overlooked and, therefore, doesn't count!)

And then there was what Malfoy had mentioned. 

Jealousy.

Even if Malfoy’s claims are lies, they’re not unbased. Tom has mentioned several times how he doesn’t like the friendships Harry keeps (“Does that include you?” Harry had asked, earning himself a very _Tom_ glare), and even if Tom holds himself with self respect and demands the respect a fifteen year old prodigy is due, Harry will never forget that time Tom was jealous that Harry spent too much time with his Gryffindor friends, nevermind that they share an actual common room.

Tom’s behavior with him has always been noticed because it’s always been different. The ultimate proof? The very fact Harry’s the only student who calls Tom by his first name, in front of him or otherwise.

Well. The “Riddle” thing started within Slytherin dungeons, and Harry just didn’t care to treat Tom any differently from the others. He called his friends by their first name; why wouldn’t he call Tom by his? Tom’s reaction to the first time Harry called him by his first name for the first time was simply to laugh in amusement, but he never told Harry not to do so, so Harry just never stopped.

Coming to think of it, Tom is probably tired of being referenced as “Riddle”, especially since it’s his muggle father’s last name, and everyone knows how _sensitive_ Slytherins are about muggles. So it’s probably just nice to be called by his name.

There. All “evidence” are nothing. Malfoy is wrong.

Harry sighs, turning on his side in a further attempt to fall asleep. On the other side of the situation, Harry doesn’t bother thinking about his feelings for Tom. He’s known for at least a good six months that he’s in love with Tom Riddle.

-

Harry, in most cases, in the face of adversity, is the first to speak against it and, if need be, fight it. However, it's not every time that either of those actions are needed, and Harry believes he knows to discern them appropriately.

So, understandably, he avoids Tom.

It's easy, at first. Tom is the number one student of his year, and he intends to remain that way, so most of his free time is spent studying. And while Harry also studies, although not as much as Tom - not many do, anyway; except for Hermione - he can easily adapt to studying in his dorms. Besides, Quidditch takes more of his free time, and Tom being not so fond of the sport makes it even more unlikely for the two to run into each other at any moment outside the classroom. There's nothing Harry can do for class, really, but he figures he can survive it.

He isn't wrong. He does survive it.

After his heart skips a beat or two when Tom focuses his attention on him, and he identifies the slightest hint of approval on Tom's expression, of course. The nod in his direction settles the worried feel in his gut, and class goes along without a hitch.

The problem starts two weeks after the avoidance began.

Honestly, he's a bit surprised he managed to make his deliberate absence go unnoticed by the Tom Riddle radar for so long. Tom would usually be onto him had he been anyone else, but he supposes the privilege of being one of the few people Tom Riddle respects and shows the slightest interest in - it's common knowledge by now, really - is that Tom has a certain amount of trust in him; therefore, Tom would take a longer time to question some difference in Harry's behavior than in any other's.

Besides, Malfoy’s very angry looks sent his way, added to the one occasion in which he pulled Harry to the side after Quidditch and seemed absolutely murderous, was quite the warning.

(“I told you about the _thing_ so you'd take an initiative,” he grits out the words, narrowing his eyes at Harry in a failed attempt to make Harry cower. “ _Not_ to make me have to deal with Riddle's worsened moods when he can't find you anywhere.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Harry, as purposefully irritating as he can be, looks in a puzzling manner at Malfoy.

The bags under Malfoy’s eyes speak volumes. Harry can't find it in him to feel sorry for him, though; he has his own sleepless nights induced by what Abraxas Malfoy deemed _necessary_ to let him know. “If my Lor- if Riddle wasn't so fond of you…”

“What? You'd feed me to the dementors? Please. I'd like to see you try.” Harry's the one to narrow his eyes, then, surprising himself with his vicious tone and the instinctive straightening of his posture. Harry isn't tall, but he knows imposing yourself isn't about height. “I’ll deal with it. Leave it alone.”

Malfoy looks vexed, but he leaves Harry alone after that, which is fine by both of them.)

So when Harry is leaving his last class of the day and finds Tom waiting for him on the way out, he's, at the very least, somewhat mentally prepared for it. “Tom, hi.” He attempts to offer the other boy the most natural of smiles, and he thinks he almost succeeds, too.

“Harry.” Tom nods at him, and turns, motioning for Harry to follow him. “Walk with me.”

They make their way to the Room of Requirement silently, and Harry isn't surprised. Tom rarely likes an audience when he's talking about something important, and although his sense of self-preservation reminds him of the rumors about Tom that travel through the castle, he doesn't worry. He doesn’t have to.

Once they enter the room, Tom's face - looking more beautiful than usual, Harry unfortunately notices, and hopes Tom won't notice the faint blush on his cheeks - loses a bit of its stoicism, and Tom tilts his head if only slightly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

Harry only frowns, feigning confusion. “I'm not.” He knows his lousy denial won't hold up, though; but that doesn't mean he'll outright admit to it.

Tom huffs out a laugh. “Did you just lie to me?”

It's bloody weird, honestly, how Tom can just tell whether someone is lying or not. Harry can't help but wish he had the same skill. Maybe he should invest in legilimency. “Perhaps.”

“How lucky you are, that you’re a more enjoyable company than my other friends.” Harry almost laughs at the detached way Tom says the last word, though the two of them are well aware that the word _minions_ would be more suitable - or perhaps _followers_. It's more dignified. “So I'll ask you again. Are you avoiding me?”

Harry rolls his eyes, only slightly annoyed. Tom already knows the answer, but he's pressing for Harry to say it nonetheless. “Maybe.” Harry grins with a bit of cheek.

“You're so difficult.” Tom says, and if asked, Harry would say he could detect a hint of fondness in his matter-of-fact tone. “And you're hiding something from me.”

“I'm not hiding anything.” Tom raises an eyebrow at that, and Harry ignores it. “Perhaps you’re the one who’s hiding something from me.”

“I'm hiding _many_ things from you.” Tom's as unabashed as one can politely get, sitting down on the comfortable chair that was near him. “But I'm also the one who spent the past week trying to find you to tell you something no one else knows.”

“Oh?” Harry feels like his heart's in his throat at that. Could it be? But Malfoy had said Tom would never admit to it, and Harry knows that, if it's true, Malfoy is right. Tom wouldn't say anything unless a positive outcome was guaranteed, and he doesn’t believe in positive outcomes when it comes to other people’s feelings. “Do tell.”

“Uh-uh. Not that easy.” Tom crosses one leg over the other, leaning back against the recliner. “Why were you avoiding me?”

There isn't an easy way to get out of this one. Harry bites onto his bottom lip, thinking over a way to tell the truth, but not the whole truth.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking lately,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “Considering possibilities and coming to terms with some conclusions. In order to do this, I've been distancing myself from others. I'm sure you understand how important the absence of outside interference can be when one's doing some serious thinking.”

The corner of Tom's lip tugs upwards. “Of course.” He's quite obviously amused by Harry's explanation, and quite obviously aware that there's more to it than what Harry's told him. But he accepts it, for now. “Alright, then.”

“Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me?” Harry asks, ignoring how his stomach feels funny when Tom looks at him for a beat too long, in silence.

“Well,” Tom starts. “Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets is?”

Harry sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, putting his mind to use. He’s sure he’s heard something about it before. “Sort of? Isn’t there a legend about Salazar Slytherin about it? That he made a chamber here in the castle and hid a beast inside it?”

Tom nods to Harry's conjectures, and leans to the side so he can rest his chin on the heel of his hand. “Yes, you're correct. Salazar Slytherin did all that because he was the only one who believed muggleborn students shouldn't be accepted in Hogwarts, and for that he left. The beast was to wake and be unleashed when his heir came to Hogwarts, to rid the school from muggleborns.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Quite racist, huh?” Tom makes a non committable noise, and Harry refrains from rolling his eyes. It's not the time for them to get into their arguments. “So, what about it?”

Standing up, Tom makes his way to Harry, coming to a halt right in front of the shorter boy. “I'm Slytherin's heir.”

Harry's sure his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline in surprise. “What? Wait, really?”

“Would I say so if I weren't?” Tom asks, only slightly annoyed. At the shake of Harry's head, Tom grins at the astonished look in Harry's face. “Despite not carrying the name, I _am_ a Gaunt, and the Gaunts have been known to be descendants of Slytherin.” He pauses, for what Harry assumes is for dramatic purposes. “And a few weeks ago, I found the Chamber of Secrets.”

Harry can't control the smile on his lips. “I- Wow, Tom, that's- That's really amazing!” Then, Harry's expression became closed off suddenly. “Wait, you're not planning on unleashing the beast, are you?”

Tom half-smiles, eyes a bit surprised, as though he hadn't expected Harry to ask that. He probably hadn't. “I wouldn't say the thought didn't cross my mind.”

Harry takes a step back so he can have a better vision of Tom, his own expression sobering. “But…” His tone instigates Tom to continue a sentence he probably hadn’t meant on saying.

If Harry wasn’t so oblivious, he’d realize how important it is that he can even speak that way to Tom; that Tom values his opinion and respects his ideas and feelings. Alas, he doesn’t.

“But…” Tom sounds reluctant, twisting his mouth a bit and looking shy of pinching the bridge of his nose. “I would be amenable not to do so.”

Taking a deep breath, Harry can feel his heart thudding inside his ribcage. That's where he differs from all the others in the school, aside from Tom's minions: Harry _knows_ Tom, as much as the other boy would ever allow anyone to know him. And Harry knows that Tom has a certain vein for cruelty and evil, and long ago decided that he still wanted to be friends with him. And maybe that's why their relationship is as it is: Harry doesn't fear Tom, and instead accepts him as he is.

Granted, that just might be Harry's long-lasting crush doing its job, but still.

“Anyway.” Tom's voice brings him back to wherever Harry had allowed himself to get lost in, his face pleasantly calm once again. “When you're done _maybe_ avoiding me, I want to introduce you to the basilisk.”

“Basilisk?”

Tom nods, a curled lock of hair falling in front of his eyes for a second. “The beast in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk. It's been a long time since its been opened, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind seeing a face other than mine.”

“Aren't basilisks deadly when you look at them?” Harry asks hesitantly, his knowledge on said beast a bit lacking in comparison to his knowledge on many others.

Tom waves a hand dismissively, walking back to his chair, but this time, Harry follows. “She won't kill you if I don't tell her to do so. She obeys me.” 

“That's reassuring.” He mutters to himself, though he's aware Tom most likely heard him. “Also, what do you mean she hasn't seen anyone other than you? What about your… Colleagues?”

“What about them?” Tom appears actually intrigued by Harry's question, tilting his head to the side as he watches as Harry sits down across from him. “Why would I take them there?”

Hesitantly, Harry's affirmation sounds more like a question. “Because they're your followers.”

“Precisely. They're to follow only.” Tom's tone is emphatic, and his grin is amused, as though Harry implied something funny. Which, to him, Harry probably did.

“Then why are you going to show it to me?”

There's a faint blush on Tom's cheeks, Harry notices with concealed interest. “Because I want to. Do you not want to see it? Because you need only say so.”

Harry rushes to reply. “No, I do want to see it.”

“Good.” Tom seems relieved, grinning at Harry. “I'll take you there tomorrow.”

-

They walk in comfortable silence to the Dining Hall, which isn’t unusual at all. Harry wouldn’t try to guess what Tom’s thinking about, and honestly, he has enough in his mind to care much about what world domination plan Tom could possibly be coming up with in his mind. 

Although he knows he should be thinking about the Chamber of Secrets and the basilisk and Tom being the Heir of Slytherin and all that it entails, he cannot bring himself to do so. For some reason, his mind brings up a memory he hadn’t thought about in a long time.

It had been in their previous year, when Tom had started looking a lot more handsome than before and other people their age started _really_ noticing that, that they had talked idly about relationships.

In truth, Harry doesn’t remember how the topic came up back then. All that he remembered was laying down on the grass next to Tom, basking on the shadow of the tree against which Tom was resting back.

“I don’t see the point in dating.” Tom had argued, and though his attention was on the book in his hands, Harry knew that he was paying actual attention to their conversation. “Not in the way I see these relationships our yearmates have.”

Harry had furrowed his brow, then, all the while trying to make up the form of the cloud directly above him - was that a hippogriff? “What about those people who confess to you and send you letters and such?”

Tom’s hand moves as he stretches it, something he does sometimes when his hand gets tired of being in the same position for too long. “They’re convenient.” And if Tom Riddle were the type to shrug, Harry thinks he would’ve. “There’s no one I’m interested in. I could only ever be interested in someone who could be my equal.”

Harry had felt his heart hurt, but back then, he did not know why. He hadn’t accepter his crush on Tom yet.

He knows why his heart had hurt, now.

They depart with a small smile on their faces, secretive, like they always do, as they each make their ways to their own house tables. And Harry’s left with many thoughts in his mind.

-

The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry finds, is… Unconventional, for lack of a better word. He wonders what was Salazar Slytherin thinking when he put it in the girl's bathroom, but he doesn't voice his questionings to Tom. He probably wouldn't find it as interesting as Harry.

Once they've gone through the, admittedly, very fun slide, they end up on this long passageway. The walk seems to be endless, and Harry shivers at the chilly atmosphere.

Tom gives him a pointed side-eye. “It’s colder than I thought it’d be.” Harry tries to explain himself, hunching his shoulders up.

They walk for only a few more seconds before Tom comes to a halt all of a sudden, making Harry stop as well. 

Unwrapping his scarf from his neck, Tom turns and steps closer to Harry. He wraps his Slytherin green scarf around Harry’s neck before tilting his head, as though considering something very important.

“It matches your eyes.” Tom says, as though it's just occurred to him. “It's lovely.” Harry's heard that before - not said to him, but coming from Tom anyway. It was usually directed at others, though, and it had ulterior motives.

Harry raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything, and tries controlling his expression. He feels his heart pounding in his ribcage, making it harder to breathe. It’s sheer luck that, for some blessed reason, he doesn’t blush. Mildly frowning, Tom pulled away, his face falling back into his usual stoic expression, before they continue making their way into the Chamber.

The basilisk is as majestic as one would expect a legendary magic beast rare as itself to be. It’s size is nothing to be joked over, and Harry can’t help but gulp at the sight of it. Before coming, Harry made sure to check the library so as to not accidentally get on the basilisk’s bad side. _The average adult basilisk_ , the book said, _may reach a height of fifty feet_.

Harry supposed this one might be a _more than average_ adult.

Tom doesn’t say anything to him for a while; instead, he speaks to the basilisk, managing to make his hisses sound authoritative even to a non-speaker. Eventually, he turns to Harry and gestures to the basilisk. “This is the basilisk.”

“I can see that.” Harry replies, more deadpan than he planned to be, too distracted by the basilisk.

Chuckling, Tom comes to stand near him. “I’ve instructed it not to harm you in any way or form. You can speak to it, if you’d like. It understands us just fine.” And then he leans in, just a bit, enough to make Harry struggle to keep himself from shivering. “Although I’d avoid meeting its eyes, unless you want to meet your death sooner.”

Harry avoids rolling his eyes, only because he’d knows it would make Tom chuckle harder than before.

-

They’re making their way to their common rooms, close enough that their arms touch sometimes, and Harry can’t help but shiver when he feels the warmth Tom emanates, even through all the layers they’re both wearing. 

It’s when they come to the point where their ways diverge that Harry reaches for the scarf around his neck, only to be stopped by Tom's warm hand. “Keep it.”

“It's not my house colors!” Harry protests.

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you’d rather get sick?” Harry opens his mouth to protest once more, only to have Tom tease him as he turns to go to the dungeons. “Perhaps you need to sort out your priorities.” And he leaves, without waiting for a reply.

Harry mutters under his breath, “I _have_ my priorities sorted, thanks.” But he buries his nose into the scarf, breathing in Tom's sweet scent all the way to the Gryffindor common room.

-

On the following day, when Harry wakes up and looks through his clothes for his scarves, he finds that all of them have turned Slytherin green colors. He has no idea how Tom managed to do that, but he _knows_ that it was him. He can’t even get mad. He hides a little smile and grabs Tom’s green scarf to use it again.

It’s only later that Harry can approach Tom about it. “Why,” Harry starts with a resigned tone to his voice, once he’s made his way to where Tom’s sitting with his back to the tree - their usual spot. “Do I have a feeling you have something to do with it?”

Tom raises his gaze at him, and then his head follows. “With what?”

Harry sits down next to Tom, and then squints at him. “My scarves. They've all turned to Slytherin colors.”

“And why, pray tell, do you think it's my fault?” Tom asks indulgently, marking the page before closing the book he's reading, but Harry can see the hint of amusement on the corner of Tom’s lips. “You say that as though I'm the only Slytherin you know. In fact, I'd be the last one to ever do that to you, considering I’m one of the two, maybe three Slytherins that actually like you.”

Ignoring the small shiver that runs down his spine at the mention of _being liked by Tom_ , Harry shakes his head. “Simple. Draco and I have come to a truce following the prank war we had last year.” Harry shrugs, pressing his index finger to his bottom lip in a thinking gesture. “Orion has better things to do. Mostly I stay out of other Slytherins’ way, and even if he dislikes me, Abraxas wouldn't dare.”

“What's your explanation for me, then?” Tom smiles, amused. “Why am I your prime suspect?”

Harry's mind instantly goes to the moment they had in the Chamber of Secrets, and Tom's comment about his eyes. He shakes his head minutely at the thought. “If other Slytherins tried to prank me, they'd do a lot worse. You know if you did worse things up to your house's standards to me, I'd be too annoyed.” He flashes Tom a small, knowing grin. “And you can't be bothered to deal with me when I'm mad at you, but wouldn't enjoy not talking to me whenever you want to, either. So, you’d only ever prank me in harmless ways.”

Tom's face seems closed off, now, and he shifts his gaze to the lake near them. “You know me too much.” He sighs, and Harry nearly chokes with the need to kiss him right there. “I keep forgetting that.”

“That's odd.” Harry teases, in an attempt to make Tom's serious expression go away. “It's not like you to forget things. It's understandable, though. Age comes to us all.”

Tom's head snaps in his direction, shaking slightly as he huffs out a laugh in disbelief. “You're-”

“Hilarious?” Harry offers, smiling. “Yeah, I know.”

“I was going to say ‘insufferable’.” Tom pointedly looks at him, opening his book back again. “I think your case needs solidifying; I wouldn’t believe that I’m the culprit you’re searching for.” And then he looks back at his book, focusing his attention on it once more.

Harry sighs and grins, amused. Then, he leans in, enough that his mouth is close to Tom’s ear when he speaks. “I'll be waiting for my scarves to get back to their colors.” With that, he leaves. He has Quidditch practice in a few minutes.

On the next morning, Harry finds all his scarves back to their Gryffindor colors. Among them, Tom’s Slytherin scarf stands out, still there, still present.

-

The library is just the way they like it: mostly quiet, and completely silent. It’s a couple of days before the Christmas break, and while most of the others have already accepted the Christmas cheer, completely forgoing their holiday assignments, Harry and Tom find themselves in the most secluded table of the library, as they always do since their first year. Hermione had been with them until about an hour ago, when she finished her Runes essay.

Now, just the two alone, not much has changed. Although Harry once worried about Hermione and Tom being in each other’s presence, the two of them get alone sufficiently well, considering each other’s dislike for the other’s house, along with the _rumors_ that circulate the school about Tom. They respect each other for their interest in studying, and, Harry supposes, because of their friendship with him. He couldn’t ask for anything else.

Ron is a whole different matter. He doesn’t like Tom one bit, and considering what Harry knows about Tom, he can’t hold it against Ron.

The calmness of the library is soothing. The potions essay Harry’s working on is a bit stressful, and he’s been juggling between three different books plus Tom’s notes to write it, but the warm atmosphere is enough to make him allow himself a five-minute rest.

Pushing away the books and the parchment he’s been working on gets only a glance from Tom, but he doesn’t ask anything before going back to his own essay. He’s finished his potions essay already, which was what they had agreed on going to the library to work on. Now, he’s working on his Defense essay, and Harry can’t help but wonder if he’s only started working on that essay now to keep Harry company.

It’s following the train of thought that sends Harry down that road he’d been to a couple of weeks ago, when Abraxas had come to him with his _theory_. Without noticing, Harry’s eyes rest on Tom’s form. He watches Tom’s handsome profile, the sharpness of his jaw, his focused eyes, the way his dark hair falls out of place when Tom hasn’t bothered with grooming it to perfection. The enticing shape of his mouth.

The words slip past Harry's lips before he can even realize what he's saying. “Do you like me?”

His eyes widen once his mind catches up to the words he just blurted out, and he quickly adds, “Someone told me you liked me.”

“Who did?” Tom asks, without looking up from his essay, but his hand has stilled where he'd been writing.

Harry shakes his head. “That's not important now.” He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it as he _worries_. The anxious feeling building up inside him is torture.

There's a moment of silence, so long that Harry has time to regret saying anything about three times, before Tom sighs deeply. “Well, Harry.” Tom turns on his seat, intense eyes meeting Harry's. “I share my notes with you. Isn't it telling enough?”

This isn’t the response Harry was expecting. Well, Harry doesn’t know what he was expecting, but this… This isn’t it. His heart is pounding the breath out of him, and his mind is a mess of thoughts running about it, too fast for Harry to settle on one for long enough to reply to Tom. His mouth has fallen open, and he stares at Tom with wide eyes. Tom, for his part, simply looks back, but he doesn’t hurry Harry to say anything, which is far more understanding behavior than Harry would wait for.

Eventually his head starts settling back in its tracks, and Harry risks speaking again, averting his eyes. “But… You said you weren’t interested in relationships.” Taking a deep breath, he raises his gaze to Tom’s face. “You said there wasn’t anyone you could get involved with here.”

“I had a change of heart....” Harry raises his eyebrows, inquisitive, to which Tom simply sighs. “...as in, you changed my heart.”

“You’re still you.” Harry states, no question in his tone.

“I’m still me.” Tom agrees. “I’ll always be me. You knew what you were signing up for, three years ago.”

“I did. I do.”

“I don’t have to warn you.” Tom speaks matter-of-factly, that way he does when he’s talking about something he’s both given plenty of thought to and is sure of. “It’d be an offense to your intelligence, and to the years we’ve spent together as friends.”

“You know I’m cruel. You know I think myself superior to most. You know what my goal is, ultimately, even if you know not the full capacity of it.” Harry all but nods. Tom isn't wrong. He does know all of that.“But I want you with me. There's no one else worthy-”

“Of you?” Harry asks, incredulity latent on his tone at the level of arrogance, though he’s not surprised. Tom simply smiles as though he's said something funny.

“Of what I'm going to achieve. Of what we can achieve together.” He steps closer to Harry. “There's only you, and I, and the world at our feet.”

“This sounds very much like a marriage proposal.” Harry says it in playful manner, mostly to distract himself from how breathless he feels.

Tom only tilts his head a bit to the side at that. “Perhaps in a few more years.” He holds out his hand for Harry, palm up. “Will you take your rightful position by my side?”

“Will you accept my questioning, and my arguing, and my standing for diverging opinions?” Questions that have to be asked make their way out of Harry's mouth, and he eyes the hand being offered to him, his own itching in need to reach out.

The small, breathless chuckle that leaves Tom surprises Harry enough that he looks up at the other boy's face, blinking owlishly at the curled lips. “You aren't you without any of those, my dear. And I will take nothing less, no one else other than you.”

Harry doesn't hesitate to place his hand onto Tom's after that.

-

Harry’s resting his head on Tom’s lap in his family’s library, reading one of his favorite books as Tom himself is reading one about Defense, which isn’t surprising at all to Harry - he knows that despite excelling in all of the classes, the one Tom actually loves is Defense Against the Dark Arts. He knows because it’s one of the things they bonded over, back when they were first years.

Harry has no clue as to what extent Tom’s mother, Merope, knew of their friendship. He supposes she was probably surprised that Tom had told her he’d spend part of his holidays at the Potter manor, and that Harry would spend another part back home with them; but not too surprised, considering they’d been trading letters since their first year.

“Abraxas will be insufferable when he finds out his meddling got us together.” Harry rests his book on his torso, looking up at Tom through his lashes and chuckling a bit to himself at the sign of displeasure in Tom’s face.

“It's not like i was planning on staying silent forever.” Tom only comments, passing another page on the book in his hands before bringing his hand back to Harry’s mess of a hair, where it’d been a moment before. 

“...Right, Tom. whatever you say.” Harry smiles sweetly, and Tom looks at him in that way that he’s learned means that he’s utterly fond and also a bit annoyed by how well Harry knows him. “Just try not to send him to Madam Pomfrey for too long, will you?” 

Tom’s reply doesn’t take long to come. “...Fine.”


End file.
